


Draw the Line (Cross Over it With Me)

by lavenderlotion



Series: Hold Me Close, Don't Let Me Go [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Headspace, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 20:11:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: Excitement is making Stiles’ heart pound even as he folds himself into their tub. He’s much too big to be doing so, but somehow he manages to kneel, the ceramic cool against his bare knees. John is standing in front of him, toes pressed against the edge of the tub.





	Draw the Line (Cross Over it With Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags, folks, someone is about to get peed on.
> 
> beta'd by the amazing [AuguriesofInnocence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuguriesofInnocence)!

“That’s where you draw the line?” Stiles demands, barrelling straight past embarrassment and diving headfirst into anger. “You’ll fuck your own son but you won’t  _ pee _ on me?!”

John stares at him, blinking slowly, before he tilts his head to the side. His lips pull down into a frown, and Stiles shifts away from where they had been cuddled up on the couch, putting more space between them. Tucking his knees against his chest helps to make him feel less like he’s exposed. 

“Kiddo,” John tries, and his voice has a soft, calming tilt to it that only makes Stiles angrier.

“No! No, you asked me if there was anything I wanted and you...I told you something personal, something I  _ didn’t want to tell you _ , and you said it was disgusting! That  _ I _ was disgusting!”

“Baby, I  _ never _ said you were disgusting!” John cuts in, his brows pulling down to join his frowning lips. 

Embarrassingly enough, Stiles can feel the telltale sting of tears building in his eyes. The next time he speaks, his voice cracks, “It sure fucking felt like it.”

“Kiddo,” he says again, reaching across the couch and pulling Stiles back into his lap. He struggles, for a moment, but he relents easily enough and lets John tuck him tightly against his side. “I didn’t mean it like that and I definitely didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” John tells him, lips brushing over his forehead. “It surprised me, and my reaction wasn’t what it should have been. I’m so sorry I upset you.”

Stiles mumbles under his breath, still upset, but he cuddles closer when John hugs him tightly. He still feels uneasy and too vulnerable. Feeling this way isn’t something he’s used to, and it definitely isn’t something he likes. When John had asked him if there was anything  kinkier that he wanted to try, a visual had jumped into his mind so quickly that he was left dizzy with want. 

But he hadn’t said anything, had bitten into his bottom lip until it hurt, because he knew the reaction he would get. And Stiles had no idea what he would do if John didn’t want him anymore, just because Stiles was into it some...uncommon kinks. 

And then John had asked him again, beautiful blue eyes open and earnest, his arms around Stiles holding him like he was precious, and the words had tumbled out of Stiles’ mouth of their own accord.  _ “Baby, that’s gross. Tell me what you really want,” _ John had said, and Stiles had felt the shame he had been so afraid of feeling well up in his chest. 

“You said that I could tell you anything,” Stiles says, still sulking, pressing his face into John’s neck. 

“Baby,  _ come here _ ,” the words are deep, rumbling out of John’s chest, and he does as asked, climbing into the man’s lap, straddling his thighs. It’s a familiar position, spread across his dad’s lap, and he rests their foreheads together. 

“That’s something you’d really want to do?” John’s hands slide down his back, settling large and possessive on Stiles’ ass and squeezing, making him shiver. He nods—he’s already admitted it, there's no use in denying it now—and John presses up for a long kiss. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, baby, whatever you want.”

* * *

Excitement is making Stiles’ heart pound even as he folds himself into their tub. He’s much too big to be doing so, but somehow he manages to kneel, the ceramic cool against his bare knees and his bare toes. His dick is hard, has been since John stripped him down in their bedroom, the process slowed down by languid kisses.

John is standing in front of him, toes pressed against the edge of the tub. His dick is laying against his thigh, plumped up with interest but not hard. He has a half-finished water bottle in his hand, and he raises it to his lips to take another sip. It’s his seventh one in the last half an hour, and Stiles is sure he’s drank close to two litres. He taps his fingers against his thighs, playing out the rhythm that his heart is erratically beating. 

Stiles can’t believe this is happening. They had talked a bit more about what would happen, what Stiles wanted, and Stiles had barely waited for their conversation to  end before he was running to the kitchen to fill up a bottle of water. He had waited for John to drink a few before bringing him upstairs, heart up in his throat and nervously aroused. 

John’s voice shocks him back to the present when he asks, “You ready, kiddo?”

He nods. His dick bounces along with the bobbing of his head, and despite how intense it all feels he doesn't feel scared. It’s John,  _ his dad _ , and Stiles feels completely comfortable. He takes a deep breath, his inhale echoed by John, and gives his dad an easy smile. 

John’s piss hits him square in the chest, and Stiles’ eyes widen as the warm liquid slides down his body, pooling around his knees before it continues down the drain. Stiles groans, and John directs the stream lower, hitting Stiles’ belly and then his dick. It hits the head of his cock, the stream strong enough that it pushes it flat against his belly, burning hot against the sensitive skin. 

Stiles looks up, mouth dropping open as he watches John aim his heavy dick. The flow of piss doesn’t lessen, and when John angles the head of his dick up, droplets splash up from his collarbone and hit the underside of his chin. He whines, the noise slipping out from his mouth, and John answers him with a moan of his own before he aims  _ higher _ . 

It’s salty on his tongue and warm in his mouth, and Stiles lets it pool until it spills over. It runs down his neck and chest, sliding down his body. Stiles’ hips stutter, thrusting up into nothing. He sways forward, wanting and needing  _ more _ . Stiles lets his eyes fall closed seconds before John goes higher, covering his face. Every breath is a ragged inhale that smells like musk, and Stiles trails his hands up his sides just to feel how wet he is. 

His balls are so tight that they hurt, but it’s distant. He’s too focused on the warm stream that is  _ still hitting him _ , his eyes still closed from when John had got his face. Stiles slowly blinks his eyes open, sucking in a sharp breath when he sees John hard. He’s bending forward so he can keep aiming, his erection straining against his fingers as he holds it down. The force waivers, tapering out until the last few dribbles of piss land on the edge of the tub. Before Stiles can do anything, John is there, using the hand he’d been holding himself with  to wipe away the clear drops. 

He feeds them to Stiles, stepping into the tub, legs on either side of Stiles’ body as he sits on the edge. John’s clean hand tangles in Stiles’ hair and  _ tugs _ , pulling him into the fingers that breach his lips and gag him, pushing deep into his mouth. Stiles feels lightheaded with his arousal, so strong that he can hardly think through the fog it’s put him in.

Everything feels too good. He’s overwhelmed, feeling too much at once. When he sucks the head of John’s cock into his mouth and digs his tongue under the foreskin, taste explodes and he groans, his entire body shaking as he comes and comes and comes, his cock shooting ropes of come that cover his stomach and the inside of John’s thighs. 

“Oh fuck, fucking— _ baby _ ,” John’s voice is a deep growl, his fingers twining tighter into Stiles’ hair as they tug him further onto his cock, rolling his hips once before he’s coming too, spilling down Stiles’ throat before he pulls out. 

Stiles rests his head on his dad’s thigh, enjoying the way John is petting his damp hair back and murmuring soothing nonsense. There’s been a handful of times when Stiles has gotten like this, come-drunk and wrung out and feeling like he was too big for his body, and every time John has been there to help him come back down. 

By the time Stiles can form a full thought, he’s cold, his dad’s urine having cooled on his skin and raising goosebumps. He turns his head so he can press his face flat into his dad’s thigh, nipping gently at the skin before laying a kiss to the spot. John lets out a little noise, rubbing over Stiles’ ear. 

“Well, you can colour me surprised,” John says, and Stiles lets out a hoarse laugh even as he uses the edge of the tub to stand, his knees aching. 

John stands after him, hugging him tightly, seemingly uncaring of the urine Stiles is still wet with. He doesn’t complain; he sinks into the warm hold, letting his brain catch back up with what’s happening. 

“Guess we probably need a shower, huh?” John asks, and Stiles nods against his shoulder, overwhelmingly happy and incredibly sated and already looking forward to the next time they get to do this. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for Second Saturday Series, a posting thing I'm doing where I upload one of my series' every second Saturday!
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> [my dreamwidth](https://lavenderlotion.dreamwidth.org/) and my [my tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


End file.
